


Moving Parts

by opalheart12



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Comfort/Angst, Drama, Eventual Happy Ending, Found Family, Grumpy/Sunshine, Heavy Angst, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:40:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27779248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalheart12/pseuds/opalheart12
Summary: The thing is: Joseph al-Kaysani hasn’t been the same since It happened. And everyone around him knows it. He’s alone. And everyone around him knows it. So, it really shouldn’t have surprised him when his well-meaning but strangle worthy best friend went behind his back to get him a roommate. What Joe hadn’t expected was to fall in love with said roommate. That hadn’t been what Booker intended at all.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Quynh | Noriko, Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Nile Freeman, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 91
Kudos: 320





	1. Prologue

https://www.NYflatshares.com 

frenchie85 8:58am 09/13/2020

_“Searching for a roommate for a brownstone in Park Slope near Grand Army Plaza. 3br/2ba 1600 sqft. Available room is 15x13 feet. Spacious with lots of natural light. Private bathroom. Pets allowed on a case by case basis. Rent is $1800 including utilities. Please call or text 212-555-1812 or email sblelivre@mailbot.com if interested. Room available immediately. Pictures below.”_

* * *

_To: sblelivre@mailbot.com_

_From: ndgenova1096@mailbot.com_

_Subject: Park Slope Room_

_Good morning,_

_I am writing to inform you of my interest in the Park Slope room. I work as a history professor at Foundry-West University which is about fifteen minutes walking from your apartment. I am extremely private, quiet, and usually not home unless I am spending the weekend grading. I have attached my paystubs for the past three months as well as accompanying bank statements. I have also provided three references should you need them._

_-Dr. James Copley_

_(212)-555-1395_

_jcopley@fwu.edu_

_-Andromache Scythia_

_(917)-555-0003_

_andys@mailbot.com_

_-Quynh Noriko_

_(917)-555-0101_

_qnko@mailbot.com_

_Please respond at your earliest convenience. If you have any other questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to reach out to me at ndgenova1096@mailbot.com or at (212)-555-1096._

* * *

**Booker🥖**

Got a response like an hour after I posted

**Booker🥖**

He listed you as a reference 👀 Nicolo di Genova

**Andy⚔️**

Are you shitting me?!🤯 NICKY?!

**Booker🥖**

I guess??? Is he solid?

**Andy⚔️**

Dude, give him the damn room. He’s the sweetest shyest little bean🥺 He’ll be great for your friend. Trust me. I’ve known him forever.

**Booker🥖**

Duly noted. I already checked his other references. They wouldn’t shut up about how much they love him. Now all I have to do is break the news to Joe.

**Andy⚔️**

Book….please tell me you didn’t do this without Joe’s permission.

**Booker🥖**

“I cannot tell a lie” or whatever Abe Lincoln said, right??

**READ** 11:37am

* * *

He shot up from his sleep, his hand wrapped around the knife underneath his pillow before he was fully upright. But there was nothing. There never was. His chest hurt as he rushed to get air into his lungs and a frustrated sob escaped his mouth as he attempted to reorient himself.

“I’m in Brooklyn. I’m home. I’m okay.” He repeated to himself, tightening his hands into fists. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

The world slowly crept more into focus. It was almost 7pm. He’d slept for an entire day. Outside, the sky was pitch black and wet as rain fell down on the still bustling Morel Park Avenue that cut in front of his brownstone. His bedsheets clung to his body as he attempted to move to get out of the bed. Save for the low golden glow of the lights of the city, his apartment was entirely submerged in darkness. 

He braced himself as he stood, grimacing as pain shot up through his leg. His now white knuckles gripped painfully at his nightstand as he cursed. He’d forgotten to put his forearm crutch next to it when he went to sleep. The consequences were every step to the bathroom feeling like he was stepping on spikes. 

And there it was.

His forearm crutch lay on the floor of the bathroom. It made sense considering he’d vomited from a panic attack and promptly collapsed into exhaustion. He hobbled into the shower to begin his day. The hot water usually helped on the days when the pain felt like it might be too much to bear so he felt marginally better as he got dressed and went into the kitchen to get breakfast going.

Booker had taken to leaving almond milk and individual cereal boxes in the fridge and pantry knowing that the less time on his feet he spent the better his mood would be. Finally, he found his way to the sofa that served as his daytime base of operations in the apartment. He was already mulling an early nap when he heard the sound of the lock to the front door and saw the doorknob twist. 

“ _Bonjour_! You awake yet?” It was Booker. He didn’t wait for an answer as he stepped into the apartment with bags of groceries. “I’ve got wonderful news!”

He came into the living room and saw his friend taking a considerable sip of water from a cup that had been on the coffee table for three days before putting a prescription bottle next to the cup in question. “Oh, good, you’ve taken your medicine. Have you eaten?”

His friend wordlessly raised the almond milk and individual cereal cup high enough that Booker could see it. 

“Wonderful,” Booker said. He sat the bags down on the counter and immediately began zipping around the kitchen as he quickly labeled and put things away. “As I was saying, I have wonderful news, Joe. I made an ad on that flat shares website for the extra room you have here. Got a hit almost immediately. Andy knows him pretty well! She told me to give him the room and...well...I did so—“

Joe’s eyes narrowed and his face hardened as he stared at his best friend. “What the fuck, Booker?” He interrupted. “I already said I didn’t want another roommate! I don’t need one!”

Booker sighed as he put the last grocery item away in Joe’s fridge. “I see the bills piling up by the door, you know. Some of them are pink now.”

“So what?” Joe replied with a shrug.

“ _So_ ,” Booker stared at him like the answer was clear as day. “You need someone else here or you’re going to get evicted, Joe.”

The other man rolled his eyes. “My dad won’t evict me. My mom would kill him in his sleep.”

“Then you’ll be living in a flat in Brooklyn with no lights, water, or internet.” Booker retorted. 

Joe glared at him. He hated when Booker was right. The bills were indeed piling up by the front door. Joe had been working from home ever since...since...well, he’d been working from home for a while now. But sometimes his pain didn’t let him work as long as he’d like so he missed work more than he really could afford to. Having someone else with another job living with him _would_ help whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“Fine,” Joe acquiesced. “Fine. Who is it?”

Booker smiled finally. “His name’s Nicolo. Nicolo di Genova.”


	2. Chapter 1

The room was bigger than he thought it would be. The pictures didn’t do it justice. He could easily fit his king sized bed in it with more than enough room for a dresser, a couch, and a coffee table if he wanted. The large windows allowed for him to look down into the courtyard below and the city skyline beyond it. 

“That’s everything, Nic. Need help unpacking? I’m good for another few hours before I have to head to the museum.” His best friend Nile smiled at him as she leaned against the wall, her chest heaving slightly from helping him carry everything up the stairs and into the apartment. 

As it turned out, “everything” for Nicolo di Genova was his bed, a desk and chair for when he had to do grading, a dresser that had probably seen better days, and four suitcases filled with clothes and shoes. He hadn’t had much. Then again, that was to be expected when one had to leave in a hurry to escape an abusive ex. He hoped Keane was presently enjoying the cell in the 109th Precinct. This time, he had no plans to drop the charges.

“ _ Grazie _ , Nile. I couldn’t have done this without you.” Nicolo’s voice was quiet as he sat down on the edge of his bed. “You have no idea how much I needed—“

“I know,” Nile replied firmly. “I know, Nicky. And I’ll always be here for you. I promise. Just...just be careful, okay?” She was over to him in a few short strides and had her arms around him before he could think to push her away. 

He didn’t.

As he hugged his best friend tightly, he felt a lump form in his throat. If this didn’t stop soon he’d be crying and then...well, that wouldn’t be good for anyone. Instead, he pulled away and sighed. “I will. I promise,” he said. “But you should probably get going if you don’t want to be late. The traffic…”

Nile still looked concerned but ultimately didn’t push back on it. “Alright. Just call me if you need anything, okay? Day or night. I mean it.”

Nicky nodded and they said their goodbyes. When he heard the front door shut he fell back into his bed with a sigh. The last four months had been incredibly taxing. All he wanted was to curl up into a ball and sleep for a thousand years. But fate had other plans.

His wallowing was interrupted by a loud  _ clunk _ coming from the living room. Nicky sat up, a frown on his face. Booker had informed him that the other occupant of the apartment, Joe, slept like the dead during the day and woke up in the evenings around seven or eight sometimes. A quick look at his cell phone told Nicky that it wasn’t even two in the afternoon yet.

Still, he found his roommate limping into the kitchen with a forearm crutch, grunting at the effort each step took. The man in question was about his height, maybe an inch or so taller. He had a head of dark curly hair and brown skin that seemed like it wasn’t glowing as much as it should. He wore an ancient looking t-shirt that looked like it was on its last leg and old jogging pants from what looked like Harvard but could easily have been Stanford, Wisconsin, or—

“Ah, so you’re Booker’s Trojan Horse,” His voice was soft and gruff with an accent Nicky couldn’t place. He attempted to shrug but his crutch made it tricky. “Well, welcome home I guess.”

For some reason, Nicky’s face grew warm and he felt an overwhelming urge to melt into the floor. “Thanks. It’s nice to meet you, Joe. I hope I didn’t wake you with my moving earlier.” 

Joe raised an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume I was sleeping.”

Nicky felt himself smile shyly. “Fair enough.”

Joe shrugged and grunted as he sat down at the island in the kitchen. “Guess we should get some ground rules out of the way then. Uh...I smoke weed so if that bothers you tell me now so I can just do it anyway but in the privacy of my room instead of out here. Also, I sleep during the day and I’m up at night working so if that bothers you...get headphones, I guess??” 

He was only half joking. Nicky nodded quickly. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“Let’s see. Uh…” Joe looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “If you see an obnoxiously French dude in here that’ll be Booker obviously. He has a key and he comes by now and then to make sure I haven’t wasted away into a lifeless husk.”

A nervous and shocked laugh escaped Nicky and he quickly covered his mouth and looked down at the floor. “Sorry. I...I’m sorry I didn’t mean to do that.”

Joe stared at Nicky, confusion and suspicion on his face. “You okay?” 

Nicky shrugged. “Fine, actually. Just...it’s a nervous habit, I guess.” 

Except, if Nicky’s demeanor was anything to go by, it wasn’t  _ fine _ . Joe looked a little harder at the man before him. He seemed shy and reserved. He hadn’t been able to look Joe in the eye for more than a second or two before his gaze drifted back to the floor or the wall or somewhere else. There was a faint purple ring around Nicky’s left eye and a few small cuts on his arms and hands. 

“Hey,” Joe said eventually, moving his head until he caught Nicky’s eyes. “Hey, look. You don’t have anything to apologize for. We’re all a little shy sometimes right?”

Something inside of Joe ached to ask Nicky what the hell happened to him but given how fragile he looked he thought it best not to ask. Nicky laughed again to himself but it was quieter this time. “Yes, I suppose so.”

Joe smiled a bit and continued on. “Rent’s due to Booker on the fifteenth of every month. Utilities get paid on the last day of every month and we split that too. Groceries are shared but if there’s anything you don’t want me to touch just write your name on it. I don’t really care what you do while you’re here as long as it doesn’t prevent me from sleeping or working. Are we clear?”

Nicky nodded quickly. “Crystal.”

“Alright. What about you? Anything I should know?”

Nicky shrugged again. “I’m a history professor at Foundry-West so I’ll be gone all day on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Tuesdays and Thursdays are my grading days so I’ll probably be here then. I go to sleep pretty early most nights. Also, the weed isn’t an issue. And being up at night. So, don’t worry! You won’t even know I exist.”

Things were beginning to add up in Joe’s mind. He coupled Nicky’s continuous need to apologize along with his lack of eye contact and the marks that were visible on his body.  _ Someone’s hurt him _ , Joe realized. The very thought felt like the ugliest thing in the world. He’d known Nicky all of two minutes but he had always,  _ always _ been good at reading people. He knew so far that Nicky tried to keep out of the way and to himself. He knew so far that Nicky tried to be as quiet as possible, shrinking himself in the process to make himself look smaller. Joe might be a cantankerous stubborn old bastard but he wasn’t heartless. No. In fact, he could feel his heart  _ hurting _ . 

“I want to.” Joe found himself saying, his voice scratchy and soft. Nicky frowned at him in confusion. “I want to know you exist.”

He’d hate to say that something  _ dawned _ on Nicky but that was the only word for it. He stood up a little straighter, his sea glass eyes going a little wide. “What?” Later, Nicky would chide himself for not saying something a little more intelligent.

Joe shrugged. “What’s the point of having a roommate if you’re gonna pretend they don’t exist? I mean, I  _ know _ you live here now too so I guess...I mean, I expect you to be as at home here as I am.”

Nicky stared at him with an odd expression on his face for a moment before responding. “Oh,” he said. “I suppose you’re right.”

Joe picked up an apple from the bowl of fruit Booker left for him and took a large bite out of it. When he looked back up at Nicky with a shiteating grin and apple juice running down his chin, Nicky almost fainted.

Joe winked at him. “I usually am.”

  
  



	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW// Intimate Partner Violence & Abuse discussed in this chapter & panic attacks  
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For the umpteenth time, Joe found himself wondering if there was anyone in the world that apologized as much as Nicolo di Genova did on a daily basis. They’d been living together for two weeks now and things were going better than Joe had ever thought. Objectively, Nicky was by far the  _ best _ roommate Joe ever had.

He cleaned the kitchen and living room twice a day. He cooked on Tuesdays and Thursdays when he didn’t have to go to the university. He took out all the trash and washed all the dishes. He’d even taken to portioning the food he cooked into containers for Joe so he wouldn’t have to subsist on cereal all the time. He was as quiet as a church mouse at all times. 

But the quiet unnerved Joe, and it wasn’t until their fifth week living together that he found out why. 

It was a stormy Wednesday night and Nicky returned to the brownstone completely soaked and very much in shock. In fact, Joe was certain he’d look  _ less  _ terrified if he’d seen an actual ghost. There was water collecting in a puddle by the door as Nicky stood there staring at  _ nothing _ , a shell shocked expression on his face.

Joe had been asleep until he heard the door open and the clattering sound of something hitting the floor.. He’d been a light sleeper since It happened all those years ago. He shot up from the bed, nearly falling off the side and onto the floor in the process, his hand gripping the knife under his pillow. Luckily, his forearm crutch was next to his bed this time. He hobbled as quickly as he could without making any noise just in case there really  _ was _ an intruder in the house.

He wasn’t prepared to see Nicky having a full blown panic attack in the hallway by the door. His glassy eyes stared at nothing but he looked utterly terrified. Even from where Joe was standing he could see Nicky was breathing fast.  _ Too  _ fast. His hands were clenched in a fist at his side. 

A panic attack. 

Joe knew them well enough with his PTSD. But something about seeing it on Nicky felt  _ wrong _ . Not for the first time, Joe’s mind wandered back to that first day when Nicky moved in. His mind immediately supplied him with the image of Nicky with a healing black eye and cuts everywhere.  _ Someone’s hurt him _ .

“What’s wrong?” Joe asked as he lumbered into the living room more fully. “What happened?”

Nicky blinked quickly and looked over at Joe as if he’d never seen him before. When he saw the hard look on Joe’s face he backed away into the corner. “Please, don’t—don’t—“ He whispered.

Joe nodded as he stopped in his tracks. His leg felt like it was on fire but he wouldn’t move while Nicky was this skittish. “I’m right here,” Joe said. “I’ll stay right here. What happened?”

“I saw him. He—he’s out now and he came to—-he just came in to one of my lectures.”

“Who did?” Joe asked calmly. The pain in his leg was going nuclear at this point but he didn’t care. He could deal with that later. “Were you followed?”

Nicky shook his head. “No. I got away before he could.”

“Alright. Okay. Good. What do you need me to do?”

That seemed to startle Nicky out of his thoughts. “What?”

Joe inched one step closer, still far enough for Nicky to not feel threatened by him. “Is there anything you need me to do?”

Nicky shook his head. “No,” he replied. “I don’t want to be a bother. I’m sorry about this, really.” He seemed to realize he hadn’t moved in a while as he looked down at the puddle of rainwater under his feet. “I’ll clean this up, I swear it.”

“I’ll do it.” Joe replied nearly as soon as the words had escaped Nicky’s mouth. “Don’t worry about it.”

The other man blinked in confusion as he looked at Joe. “But you—aren’t you in pain?”

He shrugged. “Is the Pope a Catholic?” 

This, Joe was happy to note, brought a small smile to Nicky’s face. He seemed to be calming down a bit. Joe edged around the living room away from Nicky and into the kitchen. “I’ll put the kettle on. My mother always says a good cup of tea can fix nearly anything.”

Nicky wordlessly followed Joe into the kitchen, still keeping his distance. He sat on the floor in the corner by the window. It didn’t escape Joe’s notice how much Nicky kept looking through the blinds. 

There were no words shared between them as Joe went about making a cup of lavender peach tea from the last of a bag his mother bought him when she and his father had gone back to Tunisia to visit family a few months prior. He sifted through the drawers in the kitchen until he found the spare packs of honey he kept when he ordered from the breakfast place a few blocks over. 

“It’s delicious,” Nicky said absently once Joe handed him his mug of tea. “Thank you for this.”

Joe waved him off absently and opened the fridge to take out one of the containers of leftovers Nicky left for him earlier in the week: a southwest chicken bowl with cilantro rice, pico, sour cream, shredded chicken, and red onions. He didn’t feel like waiting to heat it up so he sat at the island and started eating. Although Nicky was a bit calmer he still looked a little cagey. 

“His name is Keane.”

Joe looked up from his bowl, slowing his chewing down. He watched Nicky carefully, taking note of the faroff look in his eyes. He didn’t say anything.

“We were together for three years but...it wasn’t good. He—he was—I suppose abusive is an understatement. But about five months ago he nearly killed me and I knew I had to get away. I thought I’d be safe once he was arrested but he’s out on bail now.” Nicky’s voice sounded disconnected, as if he were talking about someone else and not himself. 

Joe felt his eyebrows beginning to disappear into his hairline. Still, he didn’t say anything. Nicky finally seemed to remember he was there again. “ _ Dio santo _ , I’m pathetic,” he said with a humorless laugh. “I can’t even be a normal adult without making an utter fool of myself.”

“Stop that.” Joe’s voice had hardened and it caused Nicky to look up in shock. “You’re not pathetic. He is.”

Nicky didn’t say anything. Hell, he didn’t even look like he agreed with anything Joe said. But that was alright, Joe thought, because Nicky was objectively the best roommate he’d ever had. And for all the small ways he’d helped Joe since moving in Joe thought it was easy enough to not allow Nicky to shrink in on himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was pretty short so forgive me for that🥺 Hope you’re enjoying the story so far


	4. Chapter 3

“Holy shit, Joe, you got a maid or something?” Quynh asked as she stepped over the threshold. “I don’t think your place has been this clean since you moved in.”

“Very funny,” Joe replied as he leaned down to kiss her forehead and hug her. She was nearly a foot shorter than him. “But if you must know: I have a roommate now.” He hadn’t had time to tell Quynh yet about his new living situation. She’d been in Vietnam for three months on assignment for ACN, American Central News, a news-based channel that she’d been dying to work at for years. 

Quynh raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Tell me more.” 

He didn’t ask for her help but she wrapped her arm into his and helped him over to the sofa all the same. When they got to the sectional she moved the ottoman over so that his injured leg sat on top. He smiled at her while she wasn’t looking, feeling incredibly thankful for his friend. 

“His name’s Nicky. He’s a history professor at Foundry-West. Pretty quiet guy but he cleans and cooks a lot. Quiet as a church mouse.” 

“And cute?  _ Please _ tell me he’s cute.” Quynh replied as she stretched out across the sofa, placing her head into Joe’s lap like a puppy awaiting scritches. 

Joe laughed and ran a hand through her hair. His friend closed her eyes and hummed contentedly. “He’s cute,” Joe said. “Maybe you’ll meet him later today when he gets home.” As she always did, Quynh fell asleep in Joe’s lap. While he usually didn’t mind it, that meant he couldn’t get up until she woke up. Feeling a bit sluggish himself, Joe decided to join her and go to sleep too. 

When he woke up what was probably an hour later, the sky was darker and he knew it must be evening. Quynh had shifted so that she was stretched across the other side of the sofa, leaving him free to get up if he needed to. He blinked, still slightly disoriented with sleep, and yawned. The only reason he’d woken up at all was because he’d heard the jungling of keys that indicated Nicky was home and another voice that  _ wasn’t _ Nicky’s. 

It was a woman if the voice was anything to go by. And she was terrible at whispering.

“Ohmygod, he’s sleeping on the couch with his girlfriend! How cute!” She sounded excited as she whispered loudly at Nicky. “Oh, and speaking of cute…” her voice trailed off and Joe knew she must be standing in the living room doorway staring right at him.

Nicky scoffed and Joe knew by the tone of it alone that he was probably rolling his eyes as far back as they could go. “Nile, be  _ quiet _ ! We can’t wake them up! He might get mad at me. Just...let’s hurry up to my room. And take your shoes off so your steps aren’t as loud.”

Nile sighed. “Sir, yes, sir.” Her tone was playfully sarcastic. Joe heard the shuffling sound of shoes being taken off and then the sound of footsteps as they both padded quickly and quietly down the hall.

It troubled Joe to think Nicky believed he would be upset with him. It wasn’t like Joe had been having the best sleep of his life or anything. He hadn’t even known what woke him up until he heard their voices. He supposed he probably needed to have another talk with him about him wanting to damn near blend into the wallpaper. For Joe, it was simple to him: this brownstone was as much Joe’s as it was Nicky and there was no reason for Nicky to feel that the opposite was true.

But there was a reason. Keane (and really, Joe hoped he never met the man in person because he knew he’d have no problem beating him with his forearm crutch) was still sinking his claws into Nicky as far as they could go and that angered and horrified Joe to no end. 

Just then, there was a loud thump and then the blaring sound of metal music coming from the brownstone next door. Joe frowned, feeling irritation spiral through him. With an agitated sigh, he got up from the sofa and lumbered over to the wall of the living room. He used his left hand to hold the wall while his right hand untwisted from the forearm crutch and clutched it tightly.

He grunted as he hit the crutch against the wall loudly four times. The music stopped. “You’re too fucking loud, asshole! People are trying to fucking sleep!”

A distant “fuck off!” was heard and Joe felt rage course through him as the music started up again. He heard Quynh wake up and heard her scramble up from the sofa to follow him as he walked out to the hallway.

“Joe, it’s really okay! Stop!” She called after him.

“It’s not,” he replied dryly. “I just wanna talk, that’s all.”

He could walk fast enough if he was determined enough. He ignored the pain racing up and down his leg and tried with all his might not to trip over the crutch as he went. Outside in the hallway Quynh finally caught up to him.

“Joe, wait!  _ Wait! _ ” 

He spun around and glared at her. “Quynh, they can’t—“

“I’ll talk to them. Get back inside.” Her tone left no room for argument. He hung back in the doorway, watching as Quynh schooled her expression into something more serene and patient.

She knocked on the door and stood back, waiting for the door to open. When it did, he heard her gasp slightly. Standing in the doorway was a tall woman with short black hair and severe blueish grey eyes. She wore what Joe guessed were workout clothes but they looked like they cost more than his entire apartment. 

“Who the fuck are you?” 

Quynh smiled and her eyes sparkled as she looked at the woman. “Hi! I’m Quynh. My friend Joe lives in the apartment next door.”

The woman smiled humorlessly. “The asshole banging on the wall and cussing at me?”

Quynh’s smile turned more into a grimace. “Right. I’m so sorry about that, by the way. It’s just...he has PTSD so sleeping is really difficult for him sometimes and he gets scared of loud noises. So, would you mind keeping it down a bit?” Her tone was gentle and beseeching. 

The woman’s eyes softened slightly and she straightened immediately. “Shit. Yeah, sure thing.”

“Thanks,” Quynh replied with a big smile. “Maybe I can buy you a drink to make up for this misunderstanding.”

_ Oh, brother. _ Joe rolled his eyes and sighed. Of course Quynh would ask this woman out.  _ Of course _ she would. The woman smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, maybe. I’m Andy by the way.”

Joe heard the rushed sound of footsteps and Nicky rushed past him into the hallway. “Is everything alright? I heard noise and--  _ Andy _ ?!” He stopped short, a surprised smile on his face. The surge of warmth that spread through Joe at the sight of Nicky being  _ happy _ felt like it could get him through the coldest winter. 

“Ohmygod, Nicky! I didn’t realize Booker was talking about the apartment next to me! Wow! How the hell are you?” Andy smiled and though her face still was as hard as a diamond face her happiness was genuine. She reached out to hug Nicky and he groaned happily as he lifted her up off the ground. 

“It’s so wonderful to see you, Andy. It has been too long.” He stood back, still smiling. 

Joe raised an eyebrow as he watched the exchange between the two. “And you know each other...how?”

Andy scoffed. “So now the asshole’s gonna talk to us.” she muttered. 

“Yes,” Joe replied coolly. “The asshole with the leg injury and PTSD is gonna talk to you.”

Andy cracked a smile at him after a tense moment of silence. “I like you.” 

Joe heard someone scoff behind him. “Well, fuck, am I chopped liver or something?” It was Nile. 

He could see now that she looked about how he’d expected. She was younger than him and Nicky by maybe four or five years and she had beautiful warm brown skin and flowing bohemian braids that were in a half-up and half-down style. At present, she was wearing a mustard yellow sweater, blue jeans, and fuzzy pink and white socks. He smiled at the adorably indignant expression on her face.

Nicky walked over to her and kissed her forehead, rolling his eyes as if he were attempting to placate a small child. “ _ Mai, piccola tartaruga. _ You could never be chopped liver to me.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Nile grumbled halfheartedly. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“So, I was promised a drink by a beautiful woman.” Andy spoke up, interrupting the two. “Will this be a group effort?”

Joe sighed. “Fine,” he said. “I suppose it is the  _ least _ I can do after being irritated with you. But in all honesty, you—“

“Joseph, dear.” Quynh interrupted. He felt her squeeze his arm tightly. “Be polite and say yes.” There was her no-argument tone. There was no way he’d chance getting on the wrong side of that. 

He shrugged. “Fine. Whatever. But make sure it’s somewhere with an elevator at least. My leg’s fucking killing me.”


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW// Mentions of abuse & intimate partner violence   
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Andy and Nile became regular fixtures in Joe’s life after the Great Metal Music Standoff. They all hung out every weekend, sometimes at Joe and Nicky’s and sometimes at Andy’s. Booker had even been integrated into their little group after Andy and Joe invited him out that first time. Out of respect for Joe, Andy still blared metal music so loud it could be heard through the walls. But she’d taken to doing so at night when Joe was awake as opposed to the daytime. Nicky slept like a rock anyway. It would take two tornados, an earthquake, and an alien invasion to wake him.

It felt good to Joe to have friends. It had been so long since he socialized with anyone other than Booker. The thing he loved most was that he never felt like a burden or an inconvenience around his new friends. They took his disability in stride the same way Quynh did and were incredibly attentive and thoughtful. Andy had taken to bringing him homemade vodka that tasted like jet fuel but got him a full night’s rest whenever he drank it.

Nile started bringing him sketchbooks and pencils when she found out he liked to draw. She worked in the art department at Foundry-West and there was no shortage of art supplies to raid. She’d even proposed that Joe sit in on one of her classes on graphic design since he’d started entertaining the idea of making graphics for more income. 

He and Nicky were growing closer and closer. Nicky was beginning to trust him and the brownstone more and more. He didn’t walk on eggshells around Joe as much as he did when he first moved in. They shared meals together when time allowed. Joe even helped Nicky with his grading on the nights when he was feeling too restless or anxious. Nicky never asked for the help but Joe did it anyway.

The sun was coming up, casting a pinkish gold light in the living room when Nicky woke up in a panic and came rushing into the room. “I fucked up!  _ Dio Santo _ , I fucked up!”

Joe looked up from the tv show he was watching. “What’s wrong, Nico?” 

Nicky blinked at the nickname but didn’t say anything about it. “The tests,” he replied, running a hand through his hair. “I fell asleep before I could even grade them last night! Grades are due today for midterms and I can’t—“

Joe wordlessly pulled the stack of tests from under the sofa and passed them to Nicky. They were graded perfectly since Joe had made use of the answer key Nicky made for himself. “Done. All you need to do is enter them.” 

“You what?”

Joe shrugged. “I didn’t want to wake you up last night. You seemed a bit exhausted lately so I thought I’d help. And your first class isn’t for another five hours so...more time to sleep in for you.”

He would be lying if he said it didn’t bring him complete and utter satisfaction to see the look of relief on Nicky’s face. He stared at Joe in wonder, as if he were seeing him for the first time. “Joe, you didn’t have to do this.” 

Again, Joe shrugged. “I was bored. All my commissions are done so I figured why not help a friend in need?”

“Friend,” Nicky repeated back to him as if the word didn’t make sense in his mouth. “Me?”

“See any other devastatingly beautiful Italians in this apartment?” Joe’s voice was distracted as he turned back to the tv show he was watching. He’d missed a crucial plot development while talking to Nicky and needed to rewind a bit. On the inside, he was practically screaming.  _ Devastatingly beautiful? _ God, he wanted to melt into the floor. 

“I—I don’t know what to say,” Nicky replied with a resigned wave of his hand. “Just...thank you. Really, Joe.”

“Don’t mention it,” Joe replied absently. “There’s pancakes in the microwave. I got the munchies an hour ago and...well, let’s just say my eyes were bigger than my stomach.”

Nicky nodded and left Joe to his show and went to the kitchen in search of the pancakes in question. Even though he had to reheat them in the microwave they tasted positively divine. He found himself wondering how on earth Joe had managed to do everything he had all night. 

He hadn’t missed seeing Joe wearing a knee brace and a pack of frozen peas on top while he was laying across the sofa. He hadn’t missed the thin sheen of sweat on Joe’s face and the slightly labored breathing he was trying to cover up. Joe hadn’t  _ wanted _ him to know he was so tired. And he said he’d done what he did all to help Nicky because  _ he  _ was so exhausted. 

Keane would never have done the same. He had always been perfectly content to watch Nicky struggle and suffer since he thought adversity built character. 

_ What a fucking asshole _ , Nicky thought to himself.  _ What on earth was I thinking _ ?

“What?”

Nicky blinked and realized that he’d actually  _ said _ what he’d been thinking out loud. Wonderful. “Sorry, I—I was thinking out loud.”

Joe turned slightly on the sofa to give Nicky his full attention. “About?”

He debated lying or even waving it off. But Joe had proven, at least up to this point, that he  _ could _ be trusted. “Keane,” he answered honestly. “I know it’s stupid but--”

“Nicolo,” Joe interrupted. “Nothing about you is stupid. You spent years with the guy. I’d be more concerned if you  _ weren’t _ still thinking about him.”

Nicky nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose you’re right. It’s just...I always feel so embarrassed when I think about my relationship with him and what I allowed him to do to me. It took him nearly killing me for me to leave. It wasn’t the first or even the fourth time that he’d hit me. Just the time that almost killed me. And I can’t help feeling ridiculous. I feel like I don’t even recognize this version of myself! I wasn’t always this...this…” He couldn’t finish. He didn’t even know what to say.

He wasn’t always this broken.

He wasn’t always this anxious.

He wasn’t always this fearful.

Nicky didn’t notice the pained expression on Joe’s face as he suddenly became extremely interested in cutting the pancakes on his plate into more manageable shapes. He didn’t notice the way Joe’s jaw clenched as if he were trying (and failing) to hold something else inside. Rage. That’s what Nicky would have seen if he were paying attention. But he wasn’t. So, he didn’t notice then all the ways Joe was actively planning a thousand different deaths for the man who’d hurt Nicky.

“You ever heard the thing about frogs and boiling water?” Joe asked.

Nicky shrugged. “I am afraid I have not.”

“Basically, if you put a frog in a pot of water on the stove and gradually turn the temperature up it won’t notice that it’s boiling alive. Abusers are no different. They make you think everything is your fault and your problem. But they make it sound like it’s because they care about you that they’re tearing you down. They brainwash you. They make you feel like you’ll be nothing without them.”

Nicky said nothing as Joe spoke. He felt like all the words he could have said had dried up on his tongue. He felt like ash was in his throat. His hands shook a bit. 

“But, Nico,” Joe continued, finding his gaze and locking in on it. “You are  _ everything _ without him and he is nothing. He is a waste of skin and blood and bones and he doesn’t deserve to share the same planet and breathe the same air as you. You are stronger than you believe yourself to be and brave beyond anything I’ve ever seen in my life. Trust me, Nico, there’s nothing stupid about you.”

He nodded again, this time fighting the stinging heat that was rising in his eyes. He could not believe his luck. He’d moved out to escape Keane and landed in an apartment where he’d found a friend. Joe cared about him. That much was obvious. Nicky could debate with himself why on earth Joe would ever like him or want to befriend him until he was blue in the face but it wouldn’t change anything.

Joe smiled at him and went back to his tv show as if he hadn’t just pulled the ground out from under Nicky. A few minutes later, as Nicky washed the dishes still in a daze, he heard soft snoring coming from the living room. He dried his hands and came to peer over the sofa. Joe had one arm behind his head and the other across his stomach. He looked so peaceful. Nicky could understand now what Joe had said about not wanting to wake him. So, Nicky pulled the blanket up to cover him and took the stack of graded tests to be entered into his gradebook. 

He wasn’t yet ready to process why his stomach felt like a butterfly habitat and why his chest felt warmer than the surface of the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this chapter! Share your thoughts in a review!


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW// PTSD episodes and torture mentioned in detail  
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It happened on a Wednesday night in the middle of October when the Yankees won the World Series. 

The whole of New York City was in a frenzy. There were spontaneous parades, cars honking all over the city, and worst of all, fireworks. Joe  _ hated _ fireworks. As it happened, he’d been asleep all day and well into the evening, so he hadn’t watched the game on tv, and hadn't been able to prepare himself for the cacophony of pure  _ noise _ . 

He was curled up in his bed, the covers long ago kicked to the floor, shaking so hard his body hurt and clenching his eyes so tight his face was beginning to ache. The knife he kept under his pillow was gripped tightly in both hands. He felt like every atom in his body was trying to split apart to be  _ anywhere _ but here. 

A mournful howl escaped him as his brain supplied him with images, no,  _ flashbacks _ of the very thing he worked so hard every day to forget.

* * *

_ He was back there again in his little apartment in Manchester, sleeping peacefully when he woke up to a weight on top of his chest and hands wrapped tightly around his neck squeezing the life out of him. He tried to ask who and why and got no response until a car passing outside the apartment illuminated the intruder and Joe felt like every organ in his body turned to ash.  _

_ Steven Merrick, forward for Manchester United and Joe’s teammate, was the one attempting to squeeze the very life from his body. _

_ “You selfish bitch,” he growled. “I will kill you!” _

_ Joe tried as hard as he could to push the man off of him but his vision was blackening every second and he couldn’t seem to move. Just as his chest felt like it might explode from the lack of oxygen, the hands were gone. Joe sucked in as much air as he could and sat up, preparing to try to put up his hands in a defensive position. His blood ran cold. He was tied to the bed and his arms couldn’t move. _

_ “Merrick…please! What do you want?” _

_ He laughed humorlessly. “Don’t play dumb with me, you piece of shit. Did you think I wouldn’t find out it was you?!” _

_ Joe continued gasping and coughing for air. “You were wrong and you know it. You belong in prison for what you did to him!” _

_ Merrick growled and before Joe knew what was happening, pain bloomed across the right side of his face. His brain felt like it powered down and went blank. “You ruined my fucking life, you bastard! I have  _ nothing _ because of you.” _

_ Joe spit the blood in his mouth onto him. “You  _ deserve _ nothing, asshole.” _

_ A dark smile appeared then on Merrick’s face. “You’ll regret that you know.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a...a  _ gun??  _ There was no time for Joe to wonder where on earth Merrick had gotten a gun. Joe instinctively tried to scramble backward but his arms being tied down made that particular effort futile.  _

  
  


_ “Please!” Joe begged. “You don’t need to do this! If you leave now I won’t go to the police. I swear it!” _

_ “Liar,” Merrick snarled. “You already  _ have  _ gone to the police.” _

_ “That’s not—“ _

_ “Close your mouth or I will make certain the last thing you ever taste is this.” He waved the gun in Joe’s face. “Besides, I’ve just considered something. I want so badly to kill you, al-Kaysani. And I will someday. But I shall settle, in the meantime, for watching  _ you _ lose everything in your worthless little life.” _

_ And before Joe could say anything more, Merrick raised the gun, aimed at Joe’s knee, and fired. A sound unlike anything that had ever escaped Joe’s body echoed off the walls. His vision whitened at the edges from the pain. He’d never in his life felt pain like this.  _

_ Merrick’s bloodthirsty eyes drank him in hungrily. He smiled something awful before he raised the gun and fired again, this time shooting into Joe’s leg not far below his knee.  _

_ Joseph al-Kaysani promptly passed out from the sheer scale of the pain coursing through his body, believing with everything in him that he surely would never wake up again. _

* * *

“Joe! Joe!” He heard Nicky’s voice through the haze of pain and folded in on himself even more if that were possible. “You’re safe!”

He shook his head furiously, his hands hitting his ears again and again so hard he thought his skull might shatter from the force of it all. “Nonononono! Please make it stop!” 

Nicky reached out to place his hand on Joe’s shoulder but nearly as soon as he did, Joe grabbed the knife from under his pillow and the point of the blade was mere centimeters from his neck. He froze, feeling like his blood had turned to ice. The frantic and terrified gaze in Joe’s eyes seared into Nicky’s brain.

Fear coursed through Nicky and he heard blood begin rushing in his ears. Joe was going to—he was going to—

The knife clattered to the floor. The frenzied look in Joe’s eyes was presently being replaced by horror and shame. “Oh, God.” he croaked out. “Ohmygod, Nicky! Oh fuck. Ohfuckohfuckohfuck.” 

Nicky slowly backed away toward the door. “I’m going to call Booker.” 

“ _ Ya ilahi _ , I could have killed you.  _ Kidt ‘antahi bihayatik! _ ” He looked absolutely horrified. Tears flooded his eyes and fell down his face. He buried his face in his hands, sobbing. Nicky’s heart felt like it was breaking in real-time. 

“Joe, I’m going to call Booker, alright? I’ll be right back.”

Time felt like it stopped existing. Joe sobbed and sobbed as his brain processed what he’d done.  _ I could have killed him. I almost killed him! _ It felt like he was yelling inside his own head. Shame felt like it was bleeding into every cell in his body.  _ I could have killed him. _

The bed dipped beside him and he felt arms circle around him. The smell of balsam and pine filled his nose. “ _ Sono qui _ ,” It was Nicky. “ _ Sei al sicuro qui. _ ”

Joe wailed and clutched Nicky close. “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry. Please forgive me, Nico.”

If it were possible, Nicky held Joe tighter. “There is nothing to forgive. I know you didn’t mean to.”

Joe shook his head furiously. “I’m just like  _ him _ . I’m so sorry, Nico,  _ please _ ! You have to believe me! I would never—you have to know—“

“You are  _ nothing _ like him. I know you would never hurt me, Joe. There is nothing to forgive. Booker is on his way, alright? You’re going to be okay.”

By the time Booker arrived, Joe had fallen into a fitful sleep, his head in Nicky’s lap and his arms tight around his waist. “How is he?”

Nicky looked up, feeling like he’d been pulled up from the depths of the ocean. His brain felt blank. He shrugged. “He fell asleep not long ago. I am hesitant to wake him.”

Booker sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Of course. Yeah. Thanks for calling.”

“Were you terribly busy?” Nicky asked, almost as if he were asking about the weather. “I apologize if you were.”

Booker shook his head. “I am never too busy for him.”

They said nothing, both of them in Joe’s room in contemplative silence with only the sound of Joe’s breathing between them. Nicky felt lost in his own thoughts. Joe almost hurt him. He almost  _ killed _ him. He  _ could _ have. Nicky knew he never meant to. PTSD was just awful that way. 

He’d walked in on Joe having an episode of some sort with all the commotion happening outside all over the city. Joe had compared himself to Keane but Nicky vehemently disagreed with it. Keane had known...had  _ always _ known he was hurting Nicky. He did it because he was internally a very small man who wanted to make everyone around him feel small too. 

Joe had always been patient with him. He’d always gone out of his way to build Nicky up. He helped him. He was his  _ friend _ . He was the sun where Nicky was the moon. He was funny and caring and perfect and  _ nothing _ like the man who’d taken to putting Nicky through a wall when there were crumbs on the counter in the kitchen.

Booker sank down to the floor and against the wall by the doorway, resting his head on his arms. “You go. I’ll take care of him.”

Nicky nodded and got up. He walked to his room in a daze and collapsed onto his bed. He fell asleep with the ghost of Joe’s arms still around him, clinging to him as if he were a liferaft in a stormy sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My poor babies. How are you guys feeling?


	7. Chapter 6

Joe stayed locked up in his room for a week. Booker came over in the mornings to make sure he took his medicine and ate something. Quyhn came in the evenings to do the same but also to keep him company. She’d taken to bringing her computer over and writing her articles for ACN to pass the time. He slept a lot. Too much, if Quyhn was being honest. But he was riddled with guilt and shame and exhaustion. He felt utterly depleted. It had been nearly two years since he’d had an episode that bad. And to know that he’d almost hurt Nicky...the weight was too much to bear.

Nile insisted that Nicky stay with her for a few days. Even though he wasn’t angry with Joe for what he’d done, he was still traumatized. He needed time to process what had happened so that he could talk to Joe about it when they were both ready.

The only good things about staying with Nile was that they commuted to work together and Booker was over sometimes since he and Nile had started hanging out more. Otherwise, Nicky was sick with worry about Joe. He wondered if he felt alone, if he felt lost, if he felt afraid. He wondered if he was eating like he should and if he was keeping up with his work somehow. 

The week passed in an exhausted haze for both of them. Joe worked at being some semblance of a human being. Getting out of his bed felt like a Herculean effort most days since his episode. It was yet another battle to shower, to eat, to not spend the whole day staring at the wall catatonically. Booker and Quynh had an unspoken agreement to take care of Joe in shifts. Booker had his days free until three in the afternoon when he had to go to his AA meetings or to see his therapist. Quynh would come as he was leaving and usually slept over or left once Joe was settled for the night.

“I’m worried about him,” Nicky told Booker when he came to Nile’s apartment near the end of the week. He’d cancelled his classes for the week, citing the need for his students to have independent research time for the essays they were assigned that would be due at the end of the semester. “How is he?”

Booker sighed. “He sleeps. A lot. He hardly eats. When he’s awake he’s practically catatonic. If it goes on like this I’ll need to call his brother in Philadelphia.”

Nicky raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Joe has a brother?” It hadn’t come up at all the entire time Nicky had been living with Joe in the brownstone. Why wouldn’t he say anything? Actually...now that Nicky thought about it, he hadn’t heard Joe mention  _ anyone _ in his family since they’d known each other.

“Two brothers and two sisters. He’s the baby of the family. But he hasn’t talked to them much since the whole thing in Manchester happened,” Booker explained, completely oblivious to Nicky’s confusion about whatever the “whole thing in Manchester” was. “He’s walled himself off. He thinks he doesn’t need to be part of the world anymore.”

“What happened in Manchester?” Nicky asked. 

Booker looked at him incredulously. “Wait. You mean...you don’t know? You never Googled him?”

“No?” Nicky replied, confusion evident on his face. “I don’t Google people. It’s creepy!”

Booker laughed loudly and shook his head. “Fair point. Well, it isn’t exactly  _ my  _ story to tell but the fine points are all over the internet if curiosity is killing you that badly. “

Nicky rolled his eyes. “Short version, Booker.”

“Fine,” he replied. “About two years ago, when he was living in Manchester, someone broke into his house and attacked him. That’s all I can tell you. Anything else, you have to ask him.”

Attacked? Nicky winced to himself as he thought about anyone breaking in and attacking Joe. He couldn’t even understand  _ why _ anyone would want to. The curiosity began to gnaw at him, but try as he might, he refused to go to Google. He would rather hear the story from Joe if he ever felt inclined to share it. 

Nicky returned to the brownstone after a week and a half with Nile. He was happy to note that Quyhn had been helping to keep the place clean in his absence. He was even happier to note that there was food in the fridge in containers for Joe, but his happiness plummeted upon realizing they’d barely been touched. He wondered if Joe had eaten much at all when he was away.

“He’s awake,” A voice said from the sofa. Nicky jumped, dropping the container in his hand and spilling salmon and rice all over the floor. “He’s barely left the bed but he’s awake. I think...I think he wants to see you, Nicky.” 

When he’d recovered his senses, he walked closer to her and noticed that she was working on something for her job. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Quynh nodded. “Probably not, but we won’t know until it happens, right? I’ll be in your room if you need me.” 

God, he needed a drink. It wasn’t like he was afraid of Joe per se, but he was afraid of how Joe had processed what happened. He was more worried than anything. His heart ached as he recalled how Joe had begged him to make it all stop, how he desperately begged for his forgiveness, and how he’d clung to him as if he were the only real thing left in the world. 

The sight that greeted him when he came into Joe’s room was a grim one. The curtains were drawn and the room was almost entirely submerged in darkness except for one standing lamp in the corner of the room. Joe was curled up on his side with his back to the door. 

“Quynh, I said I wasn’t hungry.” Joe’s voice was flat and miserable. Nicky felt an ache he couldn’t fully describe in his stomach.

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing I didn’t ask if you were.”

Joe froze and turned over to face Nicky, shock on his face. He swallowed hard, and Nicky didn’t think it was his imagination that his eyes took on a rather shiny quality. “Why did you come back?” He asked hoarsely. “I thought you wouldn’t— not that I would blame you if you did but—“

“We should talk,” Nicky said, gently interrupting him. “If you’re up to it right now, I mean.”

Joe wordlessly patted the space next to him and Nicky climbed into the bed. He sat against the headboard with his legs pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around them.

“I’m sorry, Nicky. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking! If you wanna move out and press charges, I won’t fight it. I was so completely out of line. And with everything you’ve already been through….I don’t know what else to say.” The words were out in a rush. Joe’s eyes shone with tears he hadn’t shed just yet.

Nicky sighed and reached a hand out toward Joe. When he took it, Nicky squeezed it reassuringly. “There is nothing to forgive, Joe. I still mean that. My only regret is that I didn’t know how to help you better. Now, you don’t need to tell me what it is you’ve been through. I don’t expect it and you do not owe it to me. But just...tell me how I can help.”

“Nicky, you don’t—“

“You’ve helped  _ me _ more than you could know. You affirm and reassure me without even knowing it. I hope it isn’t presumptuous to say you are one of my best friends now.”

Joe shook his head emphatically. “Not presumptuous at all.”

Nicky smiled for a moment, trying to quell the warm feeling in his chest that holding Joe’s hand had given him. “I was afraid, you know. Only for a moment. But I was afraid. I realized in that moment that you knew about my past but I didn’t know about yours. I couldn’t even begin to guess at what was wrong. And so I couldn’t guess at how to fix it.”

“I’ll tell you,” Joe promised. “Not...not now. But I swear that I  _ will _ tell you eventually. It just...it hurts right now. Still. And I need to get a handle on it.”

Nicky nodded. “Of course.”

For a moment, Joe looked nervous. “Did...did Booker tell you anything?” 

“He tried,” Nicky replied carefully. “Told me it was on the internet if I cared to look but that, ultimately, the story was not his to tell.”

“And did you?” Joe asked. “Did you care to look?” 

“No. I wanted you to be the one to tell me. I am no stranger to mystery, Joe. My life is filled with it. We all have stories we’d rather not be told.”

_ But I want to tell you everything _ , Joe thought fiercely. For a moment, he worried he might have said it out loud.  _ You deserve to know everything _ . “Thank you for that,” Joe settled on instead. 

Nicky smiled again, wider this time, and Joe thought he’d seen heaven for a moment. His chest grew almost uncomfortably warm. After a week and half lost in darkness, looking at Nicky felt a lot like being face to face with the moon.


	8. Chapter 7

“Booker told me you have siblings,” Nicky brought up a cew days before Thanksgiving. “Will you be spending the holidays with them?”

They were both sitting in the living room. Nicky was grading and Joe was working on some graphic designs. There was a week until Thanksgiving and Nicky was trying to figure out what he even wanted to do. He didn’t want to leave Joe all alone.

Joe shook his head. “No. I haven’t talked much to them since Manchester. Not because we had a falling out or anything but because...I just didn’t have the energy and they didn’t know what to do with me.”

Nicky nodded slowly. “Would you tell me about them?”

The tv hummed idly in the background, a rerun of some crime show on the Ion channel being the only sound in the living room save for the two of them. “I’m the youngest,” Joe said. “It’s my brother Mustafa, my twin sisters Amina and Yara, my other brother Aman, then me.”

Nicky paused in his grading to give Joe his undivided attention. “Were you terribly close with them?”

Joe sighed and his eyes took on an exhausted look that had little to do with being physically tired. “I used to be. We were practically inseparable.” He sounded as if he wasn’t really speaking to Nicky anymore. He seemed lost in a memory of what his life was like  _ before _ Manchester.

Before Nicky could reply, Joe’s phone started buzzing. He picked it up, frowning when he looked at the screen, and answered on speakerphone. “ _ Yama? _ Is everything alright?” 

“Does the sky need to be falling in order for me to talk to my favorite youngest child?” She had a low, hoarse voice thick with what Nicky assumed to be a Tunisian accent. “Your mother misses you, you know.”

Joe sighed. “I know,  _ yama _ .  _ law samaḥt matezʿalš mennī. _ ”  _ Please don’t be mad at me _ , Joe told his mother. 

His mother scoffed. “I could never be mad at you,  _ habibi _ . I just worry for you.”

“I’m alright,  _ yama _ . No need to worry.”

“You were  _ always _ a terrible liar, Yusuf.” His mother replied fondly. “It is nice to know that part of you is yet to change.”

Joe laughed, genuinely laughed, and it was the most beautiful thing Nicky had ever heard. It was loud and barking, nothing like the quiet laughter Nicky heard from him so often. He found himself smiling. “Yes, it is, I suppose.”

“Will you come home for Thanksgiving? Sebastian told me about your roommate. He is more than welcome too, of course. And tell Seb for me that if he does not send you to me with those lemonberry tarts of his then he may as well never darken our doorway again.”

Nicky snorted. He hadn’t met Joe’s mother in person yet but she reminded him almost painfully of his own mother. He looked down at the stack of tests he was making his way through, a dull ache spreading through his chest and a familiar heat prickling at the back of his eyes. “Excuse me,” Nicky muttered as he got up from the sofa to go to his room. “I’ll be just a moment.”

It had been five years since Serafina di Genova had died and Nicky didn’t miss her any less. She had always doted on him as long as he’d been alive. He was an only child and his father was never in the picture. With the help of her mother, Serafina raised Nicolo well and gave him everything he could ever have wanted in a mother. She’d supported him unconditionally, even when he’d come out as bisexual to her. His grandmother, Renata, had been less so but she’d come around eventually before she passed away too. 

From the time Nicky had set foot on American soil, his mother called him twice a day from Genoa no matter what time it was there. She begged him to come back home to see her as often as he possibly could. As a broke international college student he hadn’t been able to keep that promise to her. Then she’d started to get sick.

When Nicky had come to America to attend Yale, he’d met another international student from Greece: Andromache Scythia. She was the daughter of two wealthy diplomats and had far more money than anyone Nicky had ever met. They’d become fast friends, and when she’d found Nicky crying in the library about his mother’s terminal lung cancer diagnosis she’d paid for him to fly back to Italy for the past few months of his mother’s life. He’d completely fallen out of touch with Andy when he’d started dating Keane. 

_ “I miss you terribly, tesoro. Will you come home for Christmas? Nonna has been dying to see you.”  _ Nicky could hear his mother’s voice in his head clear as day, as if she were standing right next to him. He allowed a few tears to fall as he sat on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. 

It wasn’t often that he felt the weight of how truly alone in the world he was. His mother and grandmother had been the only family he’d ever known. There were no aunts or uncles or cousins. There was no one to make him feel loved and like he belonged somewhere. He hadn’t even been to Italy since his mother died. He missed it terribly. 

“Are you alright?”

Nicky startled and looked up to see Joe standing in the doorway. He leaned against the doorframe since he didn’t have his crutch with him. 

“Fine, yes.” Nicky replied too quickly.

“And you’re crying because…?” 

Nicky sighed and flopped back on his bed. Joe lumbered further into the room and sat down next to Nicky, relief visible on his face now that he didn’t need to be standing anymore. “My mother. I always miss her this time of the year. She’s been gone five years now. My grandmother for seven.”

Joe hummed sympathetically. “I’m sorry you lost them,” he said. “Do you have any other family?”

Nicky shook his head. “No. I never knew my father or anything about him. My mother was an only child and so was I. There is no one left but me. I’m alone.”

“You aren’t.”

“Joe, I have no family left—“

“Me. You have me. And Nile and Andy and Booker and Quynh.” Joe interjected. “I know it’s not the same and I know it doesn’t make the pain of grief hurt any less. But you aren’t alone. Not while I’m around.”

Nicky looked at Joe,  _ really _ looked at him. He was so certain of everything he was telling Nicky, as if it were a universal truth or something. The sun was bleeding through the windows in Nicky’s room, bathing Joe in warm light that, to Nicky at least, made him look like some angel appearing to him. His heart started fluttering and he swallowed hard, as if to force the feeling away from him. It didn’t work. 

“Besides,” Joe continued. “My mother just told me that if I can’t come home for Thanksgiving then she’s coming here. And she told me to tell you that she wants you here too so she can meet you.”

A nervous laugh escaped Nicky. “ _ Dio Santo,  _ take a man to dinner first at least,” he joked.

Joe’s eyes grew bright. “What makes you think I don’t intend to?”

Nicky felt his cheeks redden and his eyes grow a bit wider . His mouth opened slightly. “Oh.”

Joe raised an eyebrow at him and smirked. “You’ll catch flies like that, you know.”

Nicky swatted him playfully. “Oh, shut up.”

“I haven’t heard a yes yet,” Joe reminded him. 

The other man rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. Yes. Yes, I want you to take me to dinner.”

If Joe’s face started to ache from how much he was smiling, he didn’t notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s on the shorter side of things, I know, but don’t hate me! Can’t wait to hear what you guys think!


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are in a new year! Still in a panasonic unfortunately and the world is burning but I thought I’d give you all some respite. Really hope you all enjoy this chapter.

He wasn’t exactly certain  _ how _ he was going to take Nicky out to dinner before his mother arrived for Thanksgiving. With his injured leg and low tolerance for being out and about in public, he knew he would need some outside help. He’d been living with Nicky for a few months now. He’d liked him almost immediately, but he knew he was also beginning to develop real feelings for him. It felt a lot like standing on the edge of a cliff and constantly peering over to see that the ground was thousands of feet below. 

“So,” Andy said as she sat back and stretched her arms out across the back of her sofa. “You come to me in your time of need.”

Joe stared blankly at her. “Hilarious,” he replied, his voice dry and deadpan. “Anything else?”

Andy began to laugh. “Look, Joe, you don’t get to curse at me through the wall without me getting back at you somehow. Just be glad it’s this and not me fucking Quynh on your living room sofa. It could always be much, much worse.” She winked at him and he feigned a revolted expression.

“You sicken me.”

Andy and Quynh had been dating now for more than a few weeks and they could hardly keep their hands off each other. There had been plenty of times when Joe wished he was in a medically induced coma so he wouldn’t have to hear the two of them carrying on the way they did. 

“So. A date with Nicky, huh? You don’t think that might get messy with the two of you living together?” Andy asked curiously. “Don’t get me wrong. Nicky is probably the sweetest guy I’ve ever met. Like ever. But he’s been through a lot; especially with that Keane guy. What if things don’t work out between the two of you? You’d still be okay living with him?”

She had a point. He knew she did. He’d turned over those very same questions in his mind since he’d asked him out. What if it all blew up in their faces? What if...what if Nicky found out the truth about Manchester and got scared off? To say Joe had baggage was kind of an understatement. His hesitation must have shown on his face because Andy leaned forward and put a hand on his leg reassuringly.

“Look, I’m not asking you these things because I think the two of you won’t work. I know you will. All I’m saying is make sure you’re absolutely certain before you jump off the cliff with him. He can’t handle falling and being hurt anymore. I know that much about him.” Her expression was deadly serious. 

Joe nodded. “I do too.”

“Good,” she patted his leg (the uninjured one) and got up to get some tea for the two of them. “Lucky for you, I’ve been told I’m pretty good at planning dates so you’ve come to the right place. What were you thinking?”

He shrugged. “I told him I’d take him out for dinner.”

“I’m going to resist criticizing how utterly cliche that is and just tell you that his favorite food is Indian food. He literally goes insane for it. There’s a really good restaurant a couple blocks over. You’ll probably need your chair though. It’s a twenty minute walk away from here.” She stirred in two spoonfuls of honey into both mugs of the green tea she’d prepared for both of them.

Joe huffed and rolled his eyes. His wheelchair had been collecting dust in his bedroom closet longer than he was comfortable admitting. He hated it. It was an old thing, something his father had used when he’d been temporarily paralyzed after a car accident when Joe was in high school. It never turned well and it was supremely uncomfortable. He preferred his arm crutches. But even he knew that walking for twenty minutes with them wouldn’t do him any favors.

“It’s a shitty chair. I don’t want to use it.” He sounded almost petulant. “I’ll have to buy a new one and that’ll be a whole thing. My bank account is going to scream bloody murder if I buy it.”

Andy handed him his mug of tea and sat down again on the sofa across from him. “How much is it?”

He made an odd sort of face that gave Andy the urge to burst out laughing, like he was trying to think of what to say but was afraid of the words that might come out. “Almost $2,000. Think I can sell one of my kidneys though. How much do you think I could get for it?”

She fixed him with a flat look. “I can give you $2000. Only string attached is that I get to come over to your apartment with Quynh whenever I want.”

“She doesn’t even live with me!” He replied, confused.

Andy shrugged. “Well, yeah, but it’ll be fun to mentally scar you now and then. Think you can live with that for your new chair?”

He shook his head. “No. And not because that is a singularly horrifying visual now glued to all four of my brain cells. I can’t take $2000 from you, Andy. I just can’t. My commissions are going well right now but not well enough for me to be able to pay you back for that.”

“Who said you had to pay me back? My family is insanely rich, Joe. Has been for generations. That chair is a drop in the bucket for me. Hell, I could buy you  _ three _ chairs if I wanted.”

“Please don’t.”

“Look,” Andy replied with a sigh. “The fact of the matter is you’re family to Quynh, and that means you’re family to me. So if there’s ever anything you need, Joe, all you have to do is ask. Maybe you’ve gotten used to having to struggle through and do everything alone but you don’t have to do that anymore.”

He hummed distractedly, his brain spinning out at the idea that Andy was so rich she would buy his chair for him and he wouldn’t have to pay her back for it. The part of his father that lived inside his mind was presently having a conniption fit from wounded pride. “Fine,” he found himself saying. “Fine. I’ll take the money. But at least let me do a commission for you. I’ll price it at $2000 so I can feel less like a wounded peacock about the whole thing.” 

She smiled at him. “Good. Now let’s continue planning the date that’ll make Nicky want to marry you.”

Joe sputtered comically, his brain short circuiting at the idea that Nicky would ever be inclined to marry him. Not that he’d mind, of course. 

**********

The Jasmine Cafe was a more upscale Indian restaurant that had a coffee shop and bookstore in its basement. It was precisely six blocks away from Joe and Nicky’s apartment and was across the street from a truly stunning botanical garden that was, thankfully, not often frequented by the tourists who had a habit of descending down upon Brooklyn from time to time. Andy had told Joe about it and had also told him that if he  _ didn’t _ take Nicky there then she would put tuna cans around his apartment that he’d never be able to find.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in this area before.” Nicky stated as he looked all around him like he thought his eyes might miss something important. “It’s beautiful.”

Joe looked up at him as they cruised along the sidewalk. “You’re in good company.”

Nicky looked down at him, that shy smile of his on his face, and Joe felt his stomach begin to flutter. “As are you.”

He didn’t know what else to say, and so he said nothing as they continued walking. It had been a long time so Joe felt anything remotely close to beautiful. He knew he was damn good looking when he tried hard enough. But he hadn’t tried hard enough in years. It felt surreal that someone like Nicky would see him that way. He felt so incredibly lucky.

“So. How long’s it been since you went on a date with anyone?” Joe asked. 

“ _ Oddio _ , would you believe me if I said I’ve never been on a date before?” Nicky slowed up for a moment and helped steer Joe through a particularly dense cluster of people walking over a grate in the sidewalk. Once they made it through, he resumed his place on the sidewalk between Joe and the street. He turned to see Joe staring at him in shock and utter confusion. “I wish I was lying.”

Joe frowned. “But...even with Keane you never…was he your first?”

Nicky shoved his hands into his pockets to hide how terribly they were starting to shake. “Unfortunately, yes. We got together at a frat party if you can believe it. He was attending UCONN on a basketball scholarship at the time. One of my friends needed a designated driver for a party she was going to and asked me to come with her. While she was doing keg stands I was keeping a watchful eye on her. Keane saw me and started chatting me up. One thing led to another and...well, we fucked. And after that we  _ kept _ fucking. And then we were spending more time together. I suppose I fell into a relationship with him.”

“But...but you were together for three  _ years _ , Nicky. In all that time he never took you on a date?” Joe asked. They were getting closer to the restaurant now, just ten more minutes left in their trek. 

Nicky shrugged. “He never thought he needed to. It’s not like I was going anywhere.” He answered bitterly. “My mother and grandmother were dead. I was swimming in grief and terrified of being alone. For so long I did everything I could to make him happy because I didn’t want him to leave. But nothing was ever good enough. And when he started hitting me he would say it was all my fault, that I made him angry, that I needed to try harder to be better. But then...one day it went too far and I knew that if I stayed a moment longer he would kill me.”

“Jesus, Nicky.” Joe stared at him in awe, both amazed and horrified at what he was hearing. 

“He was my first  _ everything _ , Joe. And he knew it. But  _ you _ are the first date I’ve ever had. So, I suppose it’s good to know that firsts are still possible for me. This is the one thing he won’t ever be able to ruin.” Nicky reached down and took Joe’s hand in his. They were silent as they continued on. Eventually, they came to the restaurant and Nicky’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. 

He turned to Joe, a happily surprised expression on his face. “How did you know?”

“Phoned a friend,” Joe replied wryly. “Andy told me if I didn’t take you here she’d hide tuna cans all over the apartment that I wouldn’t be able to find.” 

“A most intimidating threat. It seems you had no choice.”

“No, of course not.”

They laughed together, light and perfect, feeling all too happy to simply occupy the same space as the other. “We should go in,” Nicky said after a while. “My stomach is speaking to my spine at the moment and I think I hear chicken tikka masala calling my name. After you?” He gestured toward the entrance, an excited look in his eyes. 

Joe reached out and gently tugged on his arm. “Wait.”

Nicky turned around, concern quickly clouding his expression. “What is it?”

“Look, Nicky, I need you to understand something.” Joe took Nicky’s hands in his own and held them tightly. He took a deep breath and soldiered on. “If you were...Nicky, if you were  _ mine _ ...I’d never let a single day go by without you knowing exactly how I feel about you. You have to know that.”

“Joe, I--”

“ _ Nicolo _ .” Joe pressed on, not wanting Nicky to interrupt him in case he lost his nerve. “You  _ have _ to know that. I do nothing by halves.” He brought Nicky’s hands up to his mouth and kissed them adoringly. Nicky felt like his heart might climb out of his body through his mouth. 

He squatted down so that he was level with Joe. “I’m going to ask you something I desperately hope you won’t say no to.”

Joe nodded, encouraging him to go ahead. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Joe said nothing. Instead, he gently pulled Nicky toward him and closed the distance between their mouths. It felt as if the universe reset itself in that moment, like there was some unexplainable shift that had just happened and made everything feel  _ right _ . Nicky kissed him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered and it made Joe’s heart do roundoff back handsprings inside his ribcage. 

“Well,” Joe said when they finally broke apart for more air. “How’s that for a first date?” 

Nicky smiled at him adoringly. “ _ Perfetto _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


End file.
